“What’s your beef with Nikolay,” Rascal asks.
“He stole my precious Jennifer from me.” Rodrigo seethes. “The cunt chose that piece of shit over me!”
“So you killed her?”
“I let Eduardo and my men take turns with her. When they were done, Eduardo slit her pretty little throat, making sure he told her it was for choosing the Russian over me and that her daughter wouldn’t get a choice.” Rodrigo’s maniac laugh fills the barn.
My hands are shaking and my blood boiling from the rage coursing through my body.
“Do you wanna take some of that anger out on him?” I didn’t even notice Rascal had walked over to me, until the words came out of his mouth.
I nod, not able to find the words. He guides me over to Rodrigo, whose eyes light up when I come into view.
“My Preciosa, have you been here this whole time?” A grin stretches across his face. Ignoring his question, I move to the table to pick out a tool.
The light hits one knife, grabbing my attention. A fillet knife. I pick it up, testing the weight of it in my hand. “This’ll do.”
I step in front of Rodrigo again. His eyes scan my body.
“You’re not going to use that. You don’t have the guts,” he challenges me.
Holding up the knife, I lightly run it against his chest. Light enough to not make a cut. Rodrigo’s chest rises and falls as he laughs. I make a shallow cut from his left pec across to his right. A hiss comes from his lips.
“You turned my world upside down,” I tell him. “I never imagined this day would come. Thanks to the Savage Menaces, I get revenge for myself and more importantly, my mother. You can rot in Hell.”
Pointing the tip of the knife over his chest, I push, driving it deep into him and cutting into his thoracic aorta. His eyes go wide and within seconds, he passes out as blood pours out of his chest. In minutes, he bleeds out.
Arms wrap around my waist and I collapse into Rascal, crashing from my adrenaline rush.
“It’s over, Princess. He’s dead.” Placing an arm behind my legs, he scoops me up and carries me out of the barn. He places a kiss on my forehead. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”
43
Marley
It’s the night before Thanksgiving and I’m going out to dinner with Niko, my dad. I don’t think I’ll actually be calling him Dad anytime soon, but getting the opportunity to know him is such an amazing gift. Rascal offered to come for support, which was thoughtful. I let him know how much I appreciated the offer, but I need to do this alone. With Rascal there, things could become too awkward.
I’m sitting outside with Cali, waiting for Niko to arrive, while Buster has Caden inside with everyone else. Cali’s dad is the Pakhan of the Bratva and has known Niko her whole life.
“I’m so nervous,” I mutter.
“Don’t be. He’s really excited about dinner with you,” Cali tells me. “Finding out he had a daughter was a dream come true for him.”
“What if we don’t get along?”
“Don’t think about that. Go into this with an open mind. Niko might be part of the Bratva, but he’s a good guy. He only wants to know you,” she says.
A few minutes later, a sleek, blacked out Lexus GS F pulls up in front of us. Niko steps out of the driver side, walking over to me and Cali.
“Dobryy vecher. Good Evening, ladies.” He greets us. “Marley, are you ready to go?”
“I am.” I stand from the picnic table.
“Have a good time,” Cali says to us.
Niko walks me to the passenger side, opening the door for me.
“Thank you.” I slide into the car and he closes the door, walking around the car to the driver side. There’s classical music playing softly. Glancing at the radio, it reads Smooth Criminal by 2Cellos.
“Interesting choice in music.” I grin.
He smiles in response, driving us away from the clubhouse. The ride to the restaurant is silent. I start to wonder if I made the wrong choice coming to dinner alone with him. We pull up to We Knead Pizza. I look to Niko to make sure we’re at the right place.
“Do you like pizza? I didn’t want to go somewhere too fancy and make you feel uncomfortable,” he explains.
“No, this is perfect. Pizza is great.” I give him a small smile. We head inside and get seated right away.
“Order whatever you’d like,” Niko tells me. “I’ll eat any kind of pizza.”
After reading over the menu, I decide on half sausage and mushroom and half pepperoni. When the waitress comes to take our drink orders, we go ahead and order our pizza and a couple of side salads, too.
“Can I get an extra side of ranch, too, please?” I add before she walks away.
“Of course.” She smiles and goes to put in our order.
I turn my attention to Niko. “So, how did you meet my mom?”
A look crosses his face as if he’s replaying a memory in his mind. “When I met her, I was a boyevik, a soldier for the Bratva. I was visiting California with my, at the time, Brigadier I was under. The two of us were tasked with meeting Rodrigo and his, at the time, higher up. We met them at a diner Rodrigo frequented and spoke highly of. Jenny, your mom, was a waitress there. Rodrigo had been there enough, he had spoken to your mom a few times.”
He pauses, taking a deep breath.
“I went to that diner every day for a week. Some days with Rodrigo, most days by myself. The seventh day, I finally worked up the courage to talk to her. To my surprise, she gave me her number. We spent the next few months nearly inseparable.”
At that moment, the waitress brings us our salads and drinks, promising our pizza will be out soon.
“What happened between the two of you? Why’d you leave?”
“I never came out and told her I was part of the Bratva. She found out right before I was scheduled to go back to Russia for a short trip. We got in a huge fight,” he tells me. “I left before I could fix things with her. My short trip turned into a long one. When I tried to reach out to her, she wouldn’t talk to me. I ended up not coming back to the States for a few years and by then, I couldn’t find her again.”
My heart hurts for my mom and Niko both.
“If it means anything, I think she always carried a torch for you,” I say. “She tried dating here and there, but never settled down with anyone. It was like something was holding her back, and I think that something was you.”
His eyes hold years of pain behind them. I attempt to put myself in their shoes. Why would mom have cut off communication with him? Did she know she was pregnant with me and not want me growing up around the Bratva?
My eyebrows furrow. “She never told you she was pregnant?”
He shakes his head. “Though, now that I know about you, I can’t help but wonder if that’s why she was so upset when she found out about my involvement with the Bratva.”
I nod my head. I eat my salad in silence, mulling over everything he said. When the pizza arrives, I change up the subject a bit.
“Can you tell me what she was like back then?”
He grins like a kid in a candy shop and gushes about my mom. From there, our conversation flows freely. I tell him about my childhood. He tells me about Russia. By the time he takes me back to the clubhouse, I’m feeling good about our relationship. My relationship with my dad.